


Well, if you hadn't POKED it...

by jaanxx



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3150959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaanxx/pseuds/jaanxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiny drafty ask prompt of Sherlock being thoughtless, John being annoyed, and the two being as domestic as the pair can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well, if you hadn't POKED it...

**Author's Note:**

> You had probably expected something with Sherlock missing social cues and John trying to correct him but I’m going to try to do something interesting for once so here it is.

John was in for a surprise when he stepped into the kitchen after a long day at the clinic. He set the newly-bought groceries on the kitchen table and set to retrieve the kettle from wherever Sherlock might have left it. But before he could take another step he heard an odd snuffling noise. He looked around and before he could help himself he called out. “Sherlock? What are you up to?” Sherlock didn’t answer; which was strange. He’d been getting better at greetings as of late. He narrowed his eyes, suspicious that the apartment would be empty so late in the day. Sherlock would have called if there was a case. He stiffened, clutching at a poker from the fireplace, his gun having been left in the drawer in all the chaos of his daily morning rush-about. He heard the odd noise again, although now it sounded something more akin to whimpering. He followed the noise and it brought him back into the kitchen. Upon second glance, he noticed something that he hadn’t the first time. The oven light was on. He knelt to look inside, and there was indeed something inside it. Something cooking. Something… alive.  
-  
John breathed out in relief, his grip on the poker loosening a touch; and then was washed with a wave of guilt. Something was being cooked alive in his oven, and he was relieved? He was going to have to have a talk with Sherlock. “Son of a- Sherlock! Where are you?” Still no answer. John shook his head, and pulled the oven open with his free hand. To his surprise, whatever the… monkey-looking creature inside was, did not try to escape. In fact, it looked dead. It couldn’t be dead, though; dead monkeys don’t make noises. (0r was that only when no one was around to hear it? Nonsense, John thought.) John reached over very slowly… poking the small creature a few times with the object from the fireplace. The monkey lifted its head and John sighed. The monkey blinked a couple of times and very suddenly screeched quite loudly, jumping from what it had been laying on (something that appeared to be a pan.) “Damn it, Sherlock!” Sherlock cleared his throat behind him, and John spun around to see Sherlock on the stairs, a few papers in hand. “How was that,” he gestured to the escaped monkey, “in any was my fault?” John struggled for words, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “How- how is it your fault? How is it… how is it not your fault?! Bringing an alive monkey into our home at all, never mind trying to roast it alive-” Sherlock cut him off. “Tamarin.” “W-what?” “That is not a monkey, it is a Golden Tamarin.” The corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitched as he tried to keep from laughing. John closed his eyes for a few moments, and when he spoke again, his voice was eerily calm. “Sherlock, aren’t those endangered?” “Yes.” He responded matter-of-factly. “Get it out of our flat.” “What?” John opened his eyes, staring hard at John. “I will not have you cooking an endangered animal in our house, let alone let it run about in the living room like a…” “Monkey?” Sherlock suggested, grinning. “Monkey.” John agreed. “Well?” John stated. “Get it.” Sherlock’s face fell. “You meant it?” “Wha—of course I did! I was not the one who very well brought it into the house!” Sherlock sighed resignedly, pulling plastic gloves out of his pocket. “Well, if you hadn’t POKED it…” Sherlock muttered under his breath. John put a hand to his ear. “What was that, Sherlock?” “Nothing, John…” He said, rolling his eyes.


End file.
